


Addictive

by cadey (haekass)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 06:03:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19784758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haekass/pseuds/cadey
Summary: Kinda-sorta songfic to "Addictive" from Truth Hurts.





	Addictive

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting this from the Unfortunate Orphaning.

War was hell.

Ginny Weasley knew that better than anyone. She should be back at her flat, tucked into her bed, ready to face the next day with fear, wondering who would be the next casualty of the war against Voldemort. Instead, she was walking down the streets of Muggle London, a scrap sheet of paper clutched tightly in her hand. She and Hermione, as well as a few friends from Hogwarts had gathered together, in an attempt to take their minds off the fact that they, or someone they care about, could be killed at any time. She and Hermione had stayed up late talking, Ginny expressing her desire to sometimes just take her mind completely off the war. Hermione had scribbled down an address in Muggle London and gave it to Ginny, saying that it was a good place to go if she wanted to get a little drunk and to have a good time.

It was her first foray into London without a guide, and she felt very nervous. When she finally found the place that matched the address, she breathed a sigh of relief and walked through the open door.

He noticed her straight off, and for a brief, panicked moment, thought that the Ministry had found him. Then he calmed down and took another sip of his whiskey. It sure as hell didn't matter to him anymore. Nothing did. He didn't even care if he was sent to Azkaban and given the Kiss. At least it would get him out of his life. A bitter smile touched his lips before disappearing. If someone had told him five years before that he would be suicidal and almost begging the Ministry to catch him, he would have laughed in their face before hexing them. He couldn't pinpoint when exactly thoughts of suicide had entered his brain, but once they were there, he couldn't get them out. All of his illusions about serving Voldemort had died when he had killed for the first time. There was no glory, no riches, nothing great. There was only fear, pain, and a constant sense of discontent.

He watched her sit down in a couch near him, near the back of the bar, where it was dark. The waitress came around and took her order, then returned promptly with a glass of wine. He watched her raise the glass with a little shake to her hand and swiftly down a third of it in one gulp. A year ago, maybe two, he would have gotten some amusement out of that sight. The perfect Weasley daughter, drinking away her sorrows, drowning her fear with alcohol.

He silently saluted her with his glass, and then downed the rest in one drink. He picked up the bottle the waitress had left him and refilled his glass. What he'd already had wasn't enough to get him drunk. Oh no, it took a lot stronger stuff than Muggle alcohol to get him drunk. It was just enough to make thinking conductive.

Ginny, after three glasses, finally mustered the courage to tell the waitress to just leave her the bottle and leave her be.

It didn't take her long after that to get the feeling she wanted.

He watched her, silently. A funny idea was taking root in his mind, and he didn't know if it was the alcohol talking to him, or just a long-suppressed notion. He wanted her. He didn't want her dead, hurt, or for her to run screaming from the bar. He wanted her, naked, sweaty, calling out his name as he pounded into her. He had noticed that the youngest Weasley had developed into a woman while they were still in school, but that was it. No wanting to make her his own, nothing beyond a sneering observance of her attributes. He smirked. That had gotten him into more than one fight with her older brother and supposed boyfriend of the time. He sat back, leaning into the couch he was on.

She was like a bright ray of sunshine in an otherwise dreary world. She was everything good and pure in life that he could not have. She was *good*. His eyes lit up. Voldemort assumed that he knew his place in the hierarchy, and allowed him some freedoms that others did not enjoy. He wasn't watched constantly, seeking out any hint of dissent. Which allowed him to think freely of dissent, especially now. Once he had thought of dissent, his mind moved like lightning, planning, scheming, discarding options. He knew what he wanted. He didn't want to die exactly, not anymore, he wanted to be free of the yoke and chain Voldemort provided. In order to do that, needed to get in contact with his former mentor. Snape had offered a helping hand to avoid stepping on Voldemort's slippery slope, one that he had ignored. He'd been such a foolish child at the time, not knowing what was in store for him. He had to take this slowly, so as not to raise any suspicion. He'd get to Snape, but first, he needed to get to *her.* He knew the way to redemption now.

He picked up his bottle, stood on slightly unsteady legs and walked towards her, towards the light.

Sitting next to her, he waited for her to look at him before looking at her directly. Her eyes widened in shock and her body stiffened in fear.

"Malfoy," she whispered, her reflexes dulled by the wine.

"And you're a Weasley, but I'm not going to hold that against you."

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was rising with a touch of panic, causing some other patrons to look their way.

"Lower your voice, for Merlin's sake," he hissed. "If I'd wanted to hurt you, I had plenty of opportunities before you even knew that I was here. As for my reason for being here," he lifted his bottle and took a drink. "I suppose that it's the same as yours. To drown my sorrows."

She snorted into her glass. "What sorrows?"

One victory achieved. She wasn't running for the door. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Cat got your tongue?" she asked, then giggled.

"You're drunk," he announced.

"And you're a Death Eater in a Muggle bar," she replied smoothly, giving him the impression that she wasn't as drunk as she appeared.

"There's a difference between me drinking in a Muggle bar and you doing the same?"

She hiccupped. "Guess not." She took another drink from her glass. "If you stay too long, the Ministry might find you. You could get into a lot of trouble."

He looked at her, all long, red, curly hair falling over her shoulders, her cheeks flushed with alcohol. The longing stirred in his body again. "You're going to be in more trouble if *you* stay."

Her brown eyes fixed on his gray ones - and he was completely lost. He set his bottle down and cupped her face in his hands and kissed her soft, full lips. He never knew that redemption could feel this good. He was also expecting her to pull away, to slap him back to the reality where they were both enemies - he expected everything except her sighing and leaning into the kiss.

After a long moment, he broke the intoxicating contact of their lips, and spread small, fleeting kisses over her cheeks, her nose, those tiny freckles, everywhere he could reach. "Tell me that you live in a Muggle neighborhood."

Her eyes, which had closed at some point, flew open at his implied suggestion. "But-"

He placed his hand on her breast, feeling her heart fluttering beneath his fingertips. He brought her hand up, placing it over his heart, holding it there. "You feel this too, don't you?"

There was something there, something tangible, something that connected them in the barest space of a minute.

Her eyes betrayed the fear of the unknown, but she nodded.

"Tell me that you don't want this, I'll stop, and you'll never see me again." He didn't add that her never seeing him again would probably end with his death.

She saw it though, in his eyes. And her heart, the traitor, couldn't allow anyone to sacrifice themselves. Even if that person was Draco Malfoy. "I - I can't tell you that." It was a rush of confession. She couldn't stop this anymore than she could stop her own heart from beating.

His smile was triumphant. Leaning back in, he pressed a kiss onto her lips again. Running his hand up her leg, he delighted in the little hitch to her breath. "Muggle neighborhood?" he asked again.

She shook her head. "We'll have to Apparate."

"Let's go." He threw some Muggle money down on the table, then rose and offered her his hand.

She slipped her hand in his, feeling the warmth held within. She was just drunk enough to have her logic take a holiday, where her baser instincts were clawing at her, and where she didn't give a flying fig whether or not he was going to kill her as soon as he got her alone. She just didn't care. She didn't want to be alone.

Once in a deserted alleyway, away from prying Muggle eyes, her logic seemed to return for a second. But it was the second right before his lips descended upon hers, gently coaxing them open, letting her taste the whiskey that he had been drinking. It was dark and smoky, a perfect compliment to him. When he finally released her lips, she pulled back slightly, just enough to catch her breath, just far enough that she could hear his own pants for air.

"Ready?" he asked.

She took her fate into her hands and nodded.

Her home was beyond modest, really nothing more than a cramped one-bedroom flat, but it felt welcoming to Draco, who had been so long without a home. He turned around in a full circle, appreciating the ambiance Ginny had expertly created. He turned back to her and slipped hand around the back of her neck.

"Beautiful," he complimented.

She blushed, such an endearing thing, really. "Thank you."

"Silencing charms up?"

She smirked now. "I keep odd hours. They're always up."

"Good," he murmured against her lips.

She melted into him, stealing away any thoughts of him taking his time. With a flex of his well-toned body, he easily picked up her light weight and carried her down the hallway that must logically hold her bedroom. She wasn't idle during her trip down the hall. Her mouth was busy raining kisses all over his face, her hands working at his collar, her body nearly squirming to get closer. She got his first few buttons undone by the time he set her back down in front of her bed, and he was itching just to tear the damn shirt off.

Breaking apart from each other for a few brief seconds to get undressed, they came back together, almost violently, beside her bed. Her skin was soft, so soft, underneath his roughened fingertips, her soft sighs music to his ears as he ran his fingertips over her body. Quick brushes against her pebble-hard nipples with his thumbs had her back arching, the lovely line of her throat bared to him. That was trust there, and it nearly brought him to his knees. He set his mouth there, lightly pressing kisses and nips into the skin. Her hands were running over the skin of his back, lightly digging in her nails when he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Lust had already hit him full between the eyes, and Ginny was just encouraging it along. He tipped her backwards onto the bed, allowing himself to fall on top of her, catching most of his weight on his elbows.

She laughed a little as he cursed his long legs still hanging over the side of the bed at an uncomfortable angle and lightly suggested that they get a bit more comfortable first. He grumbled, but stood up slightly, allowing her to move to the center of the bed. She smirked and crooked a finger him. A delicate flush stained her chest and her cheeks as he crawled over to her, covering her body with his own. Her legs rose up and wrapped themselves around his hips, bringing his aching erection into contact with her overheated, slicked flesh. She moaned softly as her body responded to his presence, her hips lifting slightly. He lowered his head and bit down on her shoulder, just hard enough to mark her and get some of his control back. Softly cursing his own lack of control, he whispered endearments against her shoulder, breathing against those incredibly tiny freckles that dotted her skin.

"Draco." His body jerked suddenly, not used to his name being spoken like that, like it was something to be treasured. He looked down at her face quickly, amazed to see her eyes open, staring straight into his, and he was beyond lost at that point. Guiding himself into her, he watched the play of emotions across her face. He slid into her easily, and he felt a brief pang of jealousy for whoever got to touch her luscious body before he did, but it died just as quickly as it had come. Pulling his hips back a little, and then thrusting them forward, he curled his left hand into a fist while his right roved over her body. He started the rhythm slow, but it wasn't enough. He sped up the tempo of his thrusts, feeling Ginny's enthusiastic response to the movements in the way her body moved beneath his. Almost too soon, it was over, Ginny's body arching sharply against his, her voice crying out his name, and he could do nothing except surrender himself to the pleasure.

They spent the next few hours trading kisses and small comments under her covers, trying to fight off the rising tide of sleepiness. He knew that he was going to have to tell her shortly, but didn't want to ruin the careful mood that had surrounded them. But Ginny had been a Gryffindor, and she cut straight to the point.

"What brought this on, since I'm sure that you don't always go around seducing half-drunk witches that could turn you into the Ministry at any time?"

He pressed another kiss against her forehead, feeling his lips turn up slightly at the corners. "You're absolutely right. The seducing was a side benefit, but I do need something from you. And I swear to you, it will not place anyone you care about into a danger."

She was silent for a long moment before she nodded. "What do you need me to do?"

"Just take a letter to Professor Snape."

Her wide brown eyes stared into his, her mouth open slightly. She knew what Snape did for the first few years of the war, and what he would still be doing if circumstances hadn't conspired against him. "You-you mean?"

He sighed softly. "When you saw me tonight, I had already been in that bar for a good three hours, trying to decide if I should just turn myself over to the Dementors and let them suck my soul out, or if I should just grow the balls and kill myself. I couldn't honestly bring myself to care. Either way, I would be dead and free from Voldemort's thumb." He didn't miss the slight stiffening of her body when he said Voldemort's name.

"I saw it in your eyes, you know. When you said that if I said no, that I would never see you again."

"I'm so glad that you said yes instead." He trailed his right hand over her hip. "When I saw you, I suppose that you could say I had an epiphany. I knew the way off of the lifestyle I chose." A slight smirk tugged on the edge of his lips. "I just didn't know how good redemption could actually feel."

A blush stained her cheeks. "When do you have to go back?"

"How long do you want me to stay?" She thought about it, quite seriously from the look on her face, and he was grateful for it. She was still keeping her head on her shoulders, even though they had shared what was possibly the greatest sex in the world. He was already itching to have her again. He pressed small kisses up her collarbone to her neck, feeling her hand come up to hold his head in place there.

"I guess that you can stay as long as you can."

He hummed a little against her throat and kissed his way down until he was over her heart. Placing one kiss there, he looked up to find her watching him, a curious look on her face. "Can I stay here, too?"

Her eyebrows quirked. "We'll have to work on that."

"Good."

Hogwarts hadn't changed a bit since she left a little over three years ago, the castle still evoking warm memories within her heart. She wasn't even surprised to see a carriage waiting for her when she entered the grounds. Sliding into the comfortable seat, she waited for the ride to end, fidgeting with the ends of her robe and with the envelope she held in her hands. Draco had left the night before after spending two days with her, rubbing his left forearm to try and assuage the pain, asking if he could come back when he felt that it would be safe for the both of them. She had immediately told him that he was welcome at any time, just to be sure to Apparate into her bedroom in case she had visitors over. She had spent the night hugging a pillow, trying to tell her body that he was still there, holding on to her. Yawning a bit as the carriage came to a stop outside, she jumped lightly to the ground, storing the envelope into a pocket of her robe.

The doors opened before her, and she paused for a moment, soaking up the smells and memories of her seven years at Hogwarts. Turning sharply towards the dungeons, she walked through the deserted hallways, waving to paintings, wishing that they were still admonishing her to get to class. But then she shook off that feeling as she descended the steps that took her to the dungeons and Snape's Potions room. She reached the doors just as class was dismissed, and she was nearly trampled by sixth or seventh year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. She waited until the last student had escaped before gliding into the room and gently clearing her throat.

Snape jerked his head towards her, a dark glower on his face. It was momentarily replaced with confusion before his face cleared all together and his habitual severe expression appeared. "Miss Weasley."

"Professor," she greeted as she nodded her head. "Is there someplace where we may talk?"

He was staring at her now, not even bothering to hide his puzzlement. But he rose, making sure that his robes draped just so around him. Walking over to the door to his office, he held the door open, silently demanding that she enter his private domain. She nodded her head in thanks and crossed the room in a few short strides.

The room suited him, she decided. The neatly stacked and organized bookshelves, the large cauldron, the forbidding desk that had probably terrified more than one student. He waved her to a chair while he took his seat behind the desk. "I have had very few of my former students return and speak to me, Miss Weasley. What are you doing here?"

Reaching into her robe, she pulled out an envelope. It was a piece of her stationary, nothing like what the school used for its owls. She reached over and slid the envelope across the desk, making sure that the writing on the front was turned upwards. "I'm to deliver a message to you." She stood and smoothed her robes. "I will leave you be, Professor." She turned to leave, but not before she saw Snape's hands shake as they reached for the letter.

"Wait."

She stopped and turned, her head tilted curiously.

"Have a seat, Miss Weasley."

She reseated herself, watching the subtle play of emotions cross Snape's face as he pulled the letter from the envelope. Fear, curiosity, hope. She knew that he recognized the distinctive handwriting instantly. His dark eyes flickered as they read the contents of the three pages. Ginny knitted her fingers in her lap, her nerves beginning to eat at her. When Snape finally finished reading, he set the letter down, a shaken look on his pale face. He obviously believed the words written were true; probably haven experienced those same thoughts himself.

"Do you realize what you've gotten yourself into?" His voice was softer, nothing like the harshness he often displayed to her during her school years. He worried about his students, she suddenly realized, even ones that had long ago left the protective sphere of Hogwarts.

Her chin jerked out a little. "Yes."

"If this," he held the letter up, "is ever discovered, you will be tortured, raped, and killed. No mercy will be shown."

Fear quaked through her, but she held his gaze. "If you're trying to scare me, you've done a very good job of it. But I won't turn my back on him, not even if it means my death."

He rose. "Only a fool is not afraid in the face of death. Come, we must see Dumbledore."

It was two months before Ginny saw him again. Two long, lonely months. Two months since she had received orders from Dumbldore, a letter, and an Auror posting very heavy spells of protection around her flat. She mourned the time alone, praying that Draco would make it back to her alive. She was drifting off to sleep when she heard the sudden *pop* of an Apparating wizard. Drawing in a breath, she let it out when the person muttered "Lumos," filling her room with light. Draco stood there, his eyes haunted, his posture beginning to shudder with relief.

"Draco," she whispered as she crawled out of bed and ran to him. Flinging her arms around his chest, she felt his arms come up to encircle her. She fought off useless tears, just so glad to see him again.

"I don't know how long I can stay," he whispered against her hair.

She pulled back from his embrace and pushed the bottoms of her pajamas down over her hips. "We should make the most of the time we've got then, shouldn't we?"

He crushed his lips against hers in a wordless answer.

The War continued on for another three years, Draco living on the knife's edge, coming by when he felt it was safe enough, often months in between his visits, Ginny constantly worrying and ferrying messages when a meeting with Dumbledore or the Order was deemed too dangerous. When Draco appeared again, they knew that the final battle was approaching. His information on Voldemort's movements provided a valuable tool for the Order and the Ministry.

After their traditional fast bout of sex, Draco held Ginny close, neither wanting to think about the War, only of them being together once more. He nuzzled the side of her head, right behind her ear. "It's coming," he whispered.

Ginny nodded once, solemnly.

"I probably won't be able to see you again until it's over."

She couldn't stop the tears this time. "I- I know."

He rolled her onto her back, his gray eyes boring into her brown ones. He set his head against hers, breathing in her scent. "I love you," he confessed quietly.

"I love you too." She sniffled. "How long do you think you have this time?"

He shrugged. "A day, maybe more."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her for a kiss. "Give me memories, Draco."

He was powerless to deny her.

Six months went by before the final battle took place. It was large scale and bloody, and both sides lost a number of people. Ginny wept in relief when she heard that not only had her family escaped death, but Draco had also, and everyone was buzzing about how he had shifted sides, being the one to actually kill Voldemort. She had sustained some injuries during the battle, nothing serious, but enough to have her mother insist on bringing her to the Burrow to recover completely.

She knew that the Ministry was extensively debriefing Draco, and that they would probably have questions for her as well as soon as they discovered the role she had played in assisting him. An Auror did come to interview her, thankfully kicking her mother out, and she was told that Draco would not be shipped off to Azkaban if, and only if, he agreed to work exclusively for Dumbledore. Ginny nodded her thanks, wondering how soon she could be with Draco again.

It was a mere few weeks later when it was announced that the Ministry was holding a Ball where medals would be given out. The entire Weasley clan had been invited, and she learned from Hermione that Draco would be attending as well. She hadn't heard from Draco at all, which concerned her a little, but a furtive visit from Snape after she had left the Burrow for her own flat had soothed her. Dumbledore and Draco had been quite busy up at Hogwarts and in the Ministry of Magic, wrapping up what was left of Draco's actual trial.

"Ginny, are you ready yet?"

Ginny rolled her eyes at Ron's impatience. Her stomach was jumping up and down in anticipation of seeing Draco again, but her body was shaking with nervousness. It had been over six months and he hadn't even snuck her an owl after the last battle. Sighing, she smoothed a hand over her red robes edged in silver and opened the door of her old room.

Ron was waiting on her at the bottom of the steps, a frown on his face. He was obviously anxious to join the party and to be with Harry and Hermione again, but he wouldn't leave without his little sister. They would be the last to appear, and Ginny didn't know what she would do when faced with Draco. The frown didn't leave Ron's face, and instead it grew when he looked over her outfit. Ginny matched his glare with one of her own.

"I'm not changing, and we're late as it is," she told him firmly as she descended the stairs.

He scowled greatly for a moment, but then his face cleared slightly. "All right." Under his breath he muttered something that was too low for Ginny to hear. She gave him another glare, but looped her arm through his as they Flooed to the Ministry Ball. After inspecting themselves to make sure no soot had gotten onto their robes, they each pushed open a door and entered the large room where the Ball was being held.

Their appearance was noted by many, but the small group by the drinks took the most attention. Draco froze with his glass halfway to his lips as he caught sight of Ginny. Quickly taking a sip of his Firewhiskey, he hoped that no one had noticed his lapse, but given the company he was keeping, it probably was. Leaning against the wall, he hid himself in the faint shadows that existed, willing to just be overlooked. Both fortunately and unfortunately, both Weasleys made their way straight towards him. He took another sip of the Firewhiskey as he waited for the inevitable explosion that would come whenever he and Ron Weasley were within speaking range of each other.

"Malfoy," Ron ground out between clenched teeth.

"Weasley," came the laconic greeting from the shadows.

Ginny pushed her brother off to the side, towards Harry and Hermione. "Come into the light," she demanded at a near whisper. The shadows shifted, and then produced Draco. She looked him over, taking in the white-blonde hair he left loose, the gray eyes that held a trace of amusement, down to his expensive, tailored black robes. Throwing caution into the winds, she took a large step towards him, grabbed the front of his robes and latched her mouth onto his. She felt his mouth part and eagerly parted her own to let their tongues meet briefly. When she pulled back, she noted that Ron was being held back by Harry and Hermione, they had the attention of most everyone in the room, and Draco had his hand on her arse.

"My place, your place, or are we giving everyone else a show?" she asked.

Draco smiled a bit and traced her ear with a finger. "My place isn't quite finished yet, love."

She smiled. "Then my place it is."

He smiled back just before they both Apparated.


End file.
